Forever and Always
by EchoResonance
Summary: The differences between them are many, but that's what makes them such perfect friends. She's the light to his dark, he the calm to her storm. Together, they can overcome anything and everything. They're together. Forever, and always...
1. One Thing in Common

**_Amazing what the mind comes up with in the most random moments of your life. I just realized that Soul and Maka's initials are S&M. Does that make me slow, messed up, pathetic, or all three? Lol, read on, friends_**

* * *

><p>He was tall. He was lean. His hair was the white of freshly fallen snow. His eyes were the crimson color of new blood. His teeth were sharp, serrated, like those of a shark's. He wore baggy pants, and bright orange t-shirts beneath a black leather jacket. Steel-toed boots encased his feet. His skin was tanned, his body muscular.<p>

He was Soul Eater Evans.

She was average height. She was thin. Her hair was the ashy blonde of dusk. Her eyes were the bright, entrancing viridian hue of the purest emeralds. She had a small, reserved smile. She wore short skirts and white blouses with sweater vests and a long black jacket that reached her solid black-and-silver steel-toed boots. Her skin was fair, her body lithe.

She was Maka Albarn.

He was cool. He didn't care about anything. He played the piano, but not for people. He didn't care what other people thought. He was quiet and tough and completely, totally arrogant. He was a Demon Scythe weapon. He had a self-centered, over confident soul wavelength that few could match. He didn't care. People thought he was obnoxious, rude. He didn't care. He had moments of extreme profoundness that he always denied.

He was a fake.

She was free. She was never anything but herself. She was studious, quiet, and reserved. She didn't care what people thought. She was fast, acrobatic, and agile. She had a short fuse and a notorious temper. She was a Scythe meister. She had a calm, soothing, anti-magic soul wavelength that was extremely flexible. People thought she was boring, violent, and too smart. She wanted someone around to help her, but she didn't let that desire consume her.

She was real.

He watched over her as a guardian angel. He was her partner, her protector. He was her best friend. He lived in the room next to hers in their small apartment. He made her dinner most nights. He slept beside her in class. He fought side-by-side with her. He watched her every movement. Memorized the sound of her voice. Followed every line and hollow of her face. Held her close when she came to him with nightmares. He didn't like her. Not in the way Blackstar always taunted him with. He didn't love his meister.

He was a liar.

She trained him to be the next Death Scythe. She trained him to surpass her father. She was his partner, his technician. She was his best friend. She lived in the room beside his in their small flat. She usually made breakfast. She hit Soul awake during class. She battled skillfully with him as her loyal weapon. She could read his every emotion in his eyes. She knew his voice inflections by heart. She knew every contour of his face like it were her own. She knew she liked him, in the way Liz always teased her about. She loved him. She couldn't admit it aloud.

She was a coward.

They're full of differences. Two conflicting personalities. But they balance each other out. She is the light to his dark. He is the calm to her storm. There is one thing that they both have in common, though.

They would die for each other.


	2. Five Stages of Grief

"What was it about this time?" Soul asked when his mattress dipped.

"My mama," she whispered.

He rolled over and scooted to the side to give Maka more room. She crawled under the covers and curled against his warm, hard chest. Her hands were curled right over his scar, cold against his bare skin and trembling viciously. Her whole body trembled against his. He wrapped his muscular arms around her as delicately as though she were made of crystal threads. Her warm breath feathered his throat.

"The one where she left?" he said softly. She nodded into his neck. Just being in his embrace soothed her, calmed the shaking in her body. She could hear his rhythmic heartbeat and feel his even breathing.

"This time Papa was with Blair when Mama came home. She yelled a lot, as usual. She threw some things around. Then she pulled me into my room, sat me on my bed, and knelt in front of me. She said the same thing as always. _Men are pigs. Never trust one_. And then she was out the door."

Soul leaned his cheek against her crown, feeling her soft ashy hair tickling his nose. He knew what else her dream mother had said. Maka had only ever conveyed the other words to him once, but he knew they were present every time. _It's your fault. Your fault I have to leave._ Then, after the _men are pigs_, she would have said _especially him. Especially that Soul Eater character. Your partner._ But Maka had spared him from those details after that, knowing that it would hurt him.

But these dreams hurt her more than they would ever hurt him.

"Maka, you can't hold on to that forever," he sighed. "Sooner or later, you'll have to come to terms with the fact that she left."

"What?" she demanded angrily. "I have come to terms with it! I know she's gone, Soul!"

"You get defensive fast," Soul noted.

"Well, you're basically insinuating that I—"

"Whoa there, smaller words, Maka, please," Soul interrupted.

"You're implying—"

"Smaller."

"You're saying I'm acting like a stupid kid!" she snapped.

Soul sighed in exasperation and pulled back to look into her eyes.

"I didn't say that. Ever."

"But you said I haven't come to terms with the fact that my mama is _gone_. But I know she is, Soul. I'm not an idiot."

Soul scowled, his scarlet eyes sparking with thinly veiled annoyance. Maka couldn't help but notice that they darkened when his emotions were running high, flecks of black appearing in the ruby depths.

"Yeah, you know she's gone. But you're still hoping, maybe subconsciously, that she'll come back. It's been years, Maka, and all you get are postcards. They don't even _say _anything, for crying out loud! She isn't coming back. Eventually you'll have to acknowledge that. _Don't_," he warned when her eyes flashed furiously, "snap at me. Don't you dare try to get pissy with me. We _both_ know that's what you've been thinking."

There was a short silence, then he continued, in a much softer, kinder voice. "It's not your fault, Maka. It was never your fault that she left." His arms tightened around her.

Slowly the fire left Maka's eyes, and she snuggled wordlessly back into Soul's chest. He was right, she knew. There was a part of her, small, true, but it was there, that had secretly held on to the hope that Kami may realize her mistake and come back to her daughter. She had not been ready to let that hope go, though, despite her knowledge that it was silly and immature of her to continue to think that way. Irrational it may be, but she hadn't been able to let it go. But Soul was right.

Soul was sure she wasn't going to release that hope, just as he was sure he knew how badly said hope was hurting her now. She thought that that hope was all that kept her sane, and that letting it go would be more painful than anything else, but it would hurt her less to accept what couldn't be changed. She still tried to contact her mother—Soul knew this, because he would take out the mail each morning, and he would catch Kami's name on the envelopes sometimes. But Maka never got a response. Just a postcard, with nothing written on it, and her face would fall, crumple in on itself in her disappointment. He hated it. He hated seeing her torment herself like that, but she wouldn't listen to him.

There are five steps to the grieving process. The first stage is denial. When a person won't accept what's happening, or doesn't understand it. Refusal to come to terms with what is going on. The second is anger. Trying to pin the blame on someone specific, demanding to know _why_ this is happening to them. Anger at their own helplessness, at somebody else's mistake. The third is bargaining. "What wouldn't I do to change this?" When they try to find a way around what has happened. Often, if grieving the death of a loved one, the person wishes they could switch places. The fourth stage is depression. More often than not a person will spend the most time in this stage, or perhaps anger. They wonder if anything is worth the pain they're feeling. They feel horrible, insignificant, sometimes they feel at fault. It's unwise to try to cheer up a person in this stage of grieving, as it is a natural part of the process, and they need to pull through it.

Not all of the stages are always hit. Sometimes someone doesn't go through any of them, accepting what happened from the beginning. Sometimes only a few are touched. Sometimes a person never reaches stage five, and are instead trapped by their own emotions. Some people remain in denial until the very end; some finally reach the last stage in their very last moments of life.

Soul played with a lock of her hair absent-mindedly, allowing the soft strands to slide between his fingers, and not catching, at first, the mumbled words from her lips.

"Huh?" he grunted when he realized she had said something.

"I said, you're right," she said louder. He stilled, hand still tunneled in her hair but no longer moving. His breath brushed the top of her head, slow and hesitant.

"Sorry, could you repeat that?" he said after a moment. "I'm afraid that I'm having a black blood-induced hallucination and I just heard you say that I was right."

She smacked his bare chest hard, right over his scar, and he flinched at the stinging pain, just barely holding back a yelp. Vicious girl, his meister was. Completely and totally violent and instinctive. Still, he heard laughter in her voice, and it brought a smile to his own face.

"Shut up, idiot. I _did_ say you were right."

"Mark it on the calendar!" Soul cried, with exaggerated joy.

He crushed her to his chest as he spoke, in a way very reminiscent of her papa, until she choked out a warning that she couldn't breathe, and that he was about to get a most painful Maka Chop in a place that would have him singing soprano for a week at least. After a self-satisfied smile when he released her as though she'd burned him, Maka continued.

"I've been really stupid, hoping like some little kid that someday Mama would come back. I'm sixteen, and I'm still acting like an abandoned little girl. That's stupid."

"Maka, I don't think that that's—" Soul started, not wanting her to put herself down in that whole acceptance process.

"No, Soul, don't deny it. I was being stupid, I know that. But I see that now, so I can fix it."

"Well, the first step to fixing a problem _is_ admitting you have a problem," he laughed, tightening his hold on her.

She snorted and jabbed him in the stomach, earning another wince and groan.

"Damnit woman! Would you quit abusing me?" he whined, reaching down in time to catch her fist before it connected with his manhood.

"It's not a problem! It's a natural stage in the grieving process!" she said indignantly. "But it _is_ a stage I've spent way too damn long in."

That was the last they spoke that night. Maka feel asleep soon thereafter to the rhythmic sound of his heart beating and the feel of his gentle fingers combing softly through her hair.

Soul was awake long enough to feel proud of his meister. As his fingers slid through her hair with increasing slowness, he allowed himself to press his lips to her forehead.

"I love you, Maka Albarn." He murmured into her skin. Then he buried his face in her hair, and gratefully leapt into sleep's open arms.

There were five stages of grievance. A person didn't necessarily hit them in consecutive order, and sometimes they hit only one or two, and sometimes none at all. The first step was commonly called denial. Not really believing what was going on. It sounded like Maka was finally starting to work through this one. The second was anger. Maka had sure as Hell gone through that one, raging about her dad for causing the issue, and at her mom for letting it tear her away from her only daughter. The third was bargaining. She'd gone through that one as well. Actually, Soul thought that was first one she'd hit. No, no, the first one she'd gone through was officially stage four: depression. Or so others said. Soul hadn't been around when her mom vanished, although he met her shortly after. According to Tsubaki, that stage hadn't lasted terribly long. As a matter of fact, she'd said that the more time she spent with Soul, the better she'd gotten. And then, finally, there was stage five. The most elusive one of all, the most difficult one to reach for, but the one which Maka was now fighting to achieve. Stage five was more often reached than not, but sometimes a person would linger for too long in another stage, even as they took that fateful, irreversible step through death's door.

Maka was almost there. Almost to stage five.

Acceptance.


	3. A Matter of Opinion

"C'mon, Soul, just one song!" she pleaded, tugging his arm toward the piano in the ballroom.

Soul brushed her hand away and slouched off with a few parting words. "No thanks. Where's the bathroom? I gotta take a leak…"

Maka was left standing there, looking disappointed and downcast. She tugged self-consciously on the lacy hem of her indigo cocktail dress, absent-mindedly wishing it were a bit longer.

"Maka!" called somebody from the edge of the room. She looked around; there was Liz, in a tight red dress, her long dirty blonde hair falling in a mass of ringlets. Maka slipped through the throng to the eldest Thompson sister.

"Hey, Liz," she said. Liz gave her a narrowed look.

"He still won't do it, will he?"

Maka sighed and shook her head.

"Nope. He ran off to the bathroom, and I'm _not _following him in there."

"I'll get Kid," said Liz, and before Maka could tell her otherwise, the pistol was gone in search of her meister.

Maka smacked her palm to her forehead, dragging it down her face in exasperation. Great. Even if Liz somehow convinced Kid to talk to Soul, he'd refuse, and then get pissed and accuse _her_ of not understanding the meaning of _no_. He would blame _her_ for getting their friends all riled up about his piano playing—which was _amazing, _by the way—and then not talk to her for a week. That was a pretty standard routine, and one she was, to be quite frank, totally and completely _sick _of.

Liz appeared a few minutes later, dragging Kid by the elbow, who in turn towed a very disgruntled-looking Soul. Maka had been sipping punch from a cup and watching people dance, leaning against the wall and trying to be invisible. When the others came up, she looked over and detached herself from the wall, tired green eyes fixed on the trio. Soul glowered balefully at her and tried for what was probably the hundredth time at least to pull free of Kid's grasp. And probably for the hundredth time at least, he failed. The Reaper had quite a grip when he wanted to.

"Damnit, Maka, would you just take _no_ for an answer? Just for once?" he snapped when Kid didn't relinquish his hold. Maka scowled.

"_I'm_ not the one who sent Kid after you," she sniffed haughtily. Despite her fiery tone, her eyes were dark and weary.

"But you _did_ tell Liz to—"

"Shut up, Soul!" Maka said coolly, setting her punch glass on a nearby table. Taken by surprise, Soul did as he was asked. "I did _not_ tell Liz to do anything. I told her that you said no. Again. I can't control either of the Thompson sisters; no one can, and you should know this by now. We both know that she has her own agenda. I'd barely told her that you declined the request before she vanished. _I am not the only one who wants to hear you play_. But you obviously couldn't care less either way, and I'm not gonna force you."

Soul sagged visibly, with relief, Maka guessed.

"But I still don't understand your aversion to playing, Soul, I really don't."

His scarlet eyes flashed.

"How many more times do I have to tell—"

"I know your reasoning," she interrupted, sounding increasingly irritated. "I just don't get it. Not at all."

"You don't _have_ to understand it," Soul snapped, but his eyes couldn't quite meet hers, she noticed. They were shadowed, downcast. He scuffed a foot against the floor—a sign Maka had grown accustomed to attributing to discomfort.

"Liz, Kid, could you give us a minute?" Maka asked, not wanting an audience for their conversation. Soul could second her thoughts, and was grateful.

Obediently Kid disappeared; Liz gave them a wry look before following suit. Maka turned around and caught the back of Soul's jacket as he tried to slip away. He cursed quietly and pulled vainly against her hold—which was firmer than Death the Kid's, unfortunately for him.

"Oh, no, you're staying right here until you listen to me," she said, pulling him back and pushing him into a chair. He scowled.

"Is this more of that 'the past is the past, don't let to ruin your present and future' lecture? 'Cause if it is, I think I'll pass."

She glared evilly at him, and the phrase _if looks could kill_ ran through his mind. She was staring daggers at him. Automatically, completely unaware of his own actions, Soul cowered against the delicately carved back of his chair.

"No, but even if it was, you wouldn't be going anywhere. Now, please, please, _try_ to listen with an open mind, Soul. It really won't kill you, I promise, and if it makes you feel better I won't tell anybody else that your ears are used for anything more than decoration. I know what cool ornaments they are," she added dryly.

His scowl deepened, but he nodded wordlessly. Maka looked him straight into his eyes, brightest emerald into darkest garnet. Soul felt something inside him heat up, and he fought desperately to keep the warmth from spreading up his neck and across his cheeks. He'd grown accustomed to controlling little things like that.

"Soul, you aren't your brother." He flinched at her opening line, but she continued. "Yeah, sure, your brother is talented and taller and maybe better-looking. Definitely he's better liked. But do you know _why_ that is, Soul? Do you know _why _he has more friends than you? _Why_ people love his music? _Because they've heard it_! Wes is brave and outgoing and daring. He's ready to take chances. But you _aren't_. You won't risk rejection. You won't risk getting hurt. And nothing worth anything comes without risk. Being a Demon Scythe doesn't mean you don't ever play it on the safe side, and you _do_. You and your brother have different music styles. Sure, maybe some people don't like yours. But not everybody likes your brother's, either, damnit! Everybody has their own preferences. I loved your music, Soul, and you know full damn well that I won't be the only one."

"But most people don't like that style of music," he replied sullenly. The furious blaze that ignited in her eyes would have had him backpedaling, if he had been on his feet and had anywhere to go.

"How the _fuck_ would you know?" she demanded. He blinked. That was the first time she'd ever dropped the f-bomb, at least that he had heard. "_How_? For all you know, that twelve-tone-technique could be the whole world's favorite type of composition or whatever it's called, but you wouldn't risk finding out yourself. Plenty of people would like your music, if they got the chance to hear it. And even if they didn't, it's not like they'd treat you any different. Tsubaki and Liz and Pati and Kid and Blackstar would all still be your friends. None of them would treat you like a pariah for having weird taste in music. And if they did, then they're jackasses that don't deserve to be your friends anyway."

Maka ran a hand through her hair in her agitation, her emerald green eyes, darkened to olive in her irritation, sparking with emotion. Soul's own scarlet gaze was wider than normal, the color darker, flickering with uncertainty. Could she be right?

She took a shaky breath, the fire in her eyes dimming to something a little calmer. When she spoke, her voice was softer, gentler, better than the harsh fury that had grated it before. It was a disarming voice, and Soul wasn't entirely prepared for it.

"Soul, you can't hide your talents our whole life. Not when they're so much a part of you. You can't hide half _of_ your life. It's something I know you love. Forget about your brother. He had a different style; you can't say one is better than the other. It's totally and completely different for each person. Do what you love, Soul. It will make _you_ feel better, and it'll make everyone happy. It'll make me happy," she finished in barely a whisper, but Soul heard every word.

He stared at her for a long minute, that bright, crimson gaze locked onto her soft, glowing emerald one. Maka let the corners of her lips twist up in a soft, reassuring smile, encouraging him even without words.

Soul's hand shot out and grabbed hers, tugging her down onto his lap. Maka squeaked in surprise as she half-fell onto his muscled thigh. Hard, strong arms wrapped around her, warm even through his jacket, and she felt his chin rest on the top of her head. With an inaudible sigh, Maka relaxed and leaned into him, breathing in the smell of him. He didn't smell like cologne—he said guys who drowned themselves in canned scent were not cool at all—but he smelled like…like _him_. That was the best way she could describe it. He smelled like musk and leather, and it was a warm, comforting scent to her.

"How do you do that?" Soul asked softly.

"Do what?"

"Know exactly what to say to make me feel better and totally uncool at the same time?"

Maka laughed.

"It's a gift."

There was a short pause in which Soul just held her against his chest, and she played with the lapels of his jacket. His nose was buried in her hair, breathing in the subtle scent of the vanilla and lavender shampoo and conditioner that was her favorite. It was a smell that was totally her—sharp and warm and sweet at the same time. Just as his scent was like a safety blanket to her, so hers was to him. Finally Maka broke the comfortable silence.

"Soul…Did you actually think about what I said?"

He chuckled; his shoulders brushed hers with the action.

"Hard not to." He sighed. "Yeah, Maka, I did. And I'm gonna sound really uncool right now when I admit that you're probably right and I've been playing it safe ever since I left home. I've been hiding from a lot. I've been a total damn coward with my music, with my grades, with people. Fuck, I've been a coward with almost _everything_. Not cool. Not even a _little bit_ cool."

Another pause. His fingers fiddled with a stray lock of her soft, ashy blonde hair.

"Will you play?"

A loud, long-suffering sigh.

"I guess. What've I got to lose, anyway?"

"That's the spirit!" Maka giggled, but when she tried to stand, Soul tightened his hold on her, pulling her back tightly against his hard, muscled chest. She squeaked in surprise again, her small, calloused hands pushing futilely against him. Soul chuckled.

"The other pianist is still here. We can wait til he leaves."

"But _Soul_, you _said_—"

"I never said when, did I?" he teased. "Just be glad I'll do it at all."

Maka slumped back against him with a huff. Soul allowed himself a small smile. She was cute when she was annoyed. Her eyes sparked with flecks of bright, lime green, her cheeks dusted with pink, and she pursed her lips stubbornly. Soul found himself unable to look away from her rosy mouth. Slowly, unconsciously, he started to lean forward, aching to meet her lips with his own.

"Hey! Soul, the pianist is gone, _now _will you—what're you doing?" Maka's voice jerked him out of his daze and he leaned back sharply, swearing inwardly for the near miss. "Soul? Is something wrong?"

He shook his head, as if to clear it, and answered, in a voice rougher than his usual growl.

"Nah, it's cool. Nothing's wrong. What were you saying?"

Maka regarded him curiously.

"I was going to ask if you'd play, since that other guy's gone now, but now I'm wondering if we should just go home. You look a little flushed—are you sure you're alright? No fever or anything?"

He shrugged and brushed her off of his lap; she stood gracefully and continued to watch him with wary eyes.

"No, Maka. I told you—I'm fine."

"So you'll play?"

Soul heaved a great sigh and rose to his feet. "I guess. Where is the damn thing, anyway?"

…

Maka clapped the loudest, a wide, electrifying smile gracing her face. Her eyes shone admiringly up at him where he sat, half-hunched, as if expecting a rebuff. His stunned face was the result of not _receiving_ said rebuff. The result of convincing himself that no one would ever be able to stand his music. The result of telling himself over and over just how _horrible_ he was. But he _wasn't_ horrible. And the looks on his friends' faces told him so.

_Huh_, he thought, standing and taking a bow. _Maybe Maka wasn't the only one with acceptance issues._


	4. Clubbing Gone Awry

Soul's eyes followed her all the way out the door. A grunt of pain escaped him when Blackstar punched him to get his attention.

"Dude, quit staring, you're making your god jealous," Blackstar smirked, easily dodging Soul's fist. "I don't like sharing attention. 'Specially not with such a flat-chested bookworm."

"Shut _up_, Blackstar," Soul growled. "I wasn't staring. Her tag was sticking out the back of her shirt, that's all." It was a lame excuse, but the only one he could think of.

Blackstar snorted in blatant disbelief.

"No, it wasn't ," he scoffed. "C'mon, man, just admit it already. To yourself, at least. You _know_ you like her, stop trying to hide it."

"I do _not_, Blackstar, shut it! What'd you know anyway?"

"Next to nothing," Kid said calmly from the couch. "So, now that we've established that Blackstar knows nothing and Soul doesn't like Maka, how about we get to that whole guys' night out? I'm ready to do just about anything that doesn't involve clothes shopping, cosmetic shopping, shoe shopping, or jewelry shopping."

"No shopping, got it," Soul laughed, gratefully latching onto Kid's safety line.

"How 'bout we go clubbing? Y'know, for a change of pace?" suggested Blackstar. "You never know, we might find some totally hot chick that we can't live without!"

Soul smirked and agreed, and Kid sent a discreet wink in his direction.

Little did Soul know that it wasn't actually for him. It was for the assassin beside him, who bore a markedly sly smirk.

…

"Ooh, Maka, here without your shadow?" Liz teased as she let her friend in. Maka sighed and shook her head.

"Yes, Liz, I left Soul back at the apartment with the guys for their own time. And I wish you'd open your eyes. Soul does _not_ like me that way." _However much I _wish_ he did._ She didn't say this aloud, but Liz read it in her eyes.

"Big sis isn't the one that needs to open her eyes!" Pati shouted happily, bouncing down the stairs and fastened herself onto Maka's arm. "Soul's got his red ones trained on you whenever you turn around!"

"Whatever, Pati," Maka forced a laugh.

"Alright, you two, I'm sure Maka didn't come for girl's night just to have you tease her non-stop about Soul." Tsubaki appeared at the top of the stairs, smiling apologetically at her smaller friend and coming down to stand beside her. Maka smiled gratefully as the sisters mumbled insincere apologies of their own.

"So, what's the plan for the night?" asked Maka, wriggling free of Pati's death grip. She worked her arm around for a bit until the circulation was regular once more.

"Well, Tsubaki said we should leave it to you," said Pati.

"I'd suggest studying for that test on Friday," replied Maka at once.

"Which is _why_ I told her there was no way in Hell you were picking," Liz said, amused at the look of outrage on Maka's face.

"Liz—!"

"We're goin' out for a night on the town," she cut across Maka.

"But Liz!"

"Oh, no, no buts," threatened Liz, that dangerous glint appearing in her eyes that was always precursor to being tied up and thrown in a car trunk. "_We _are going out, _you _will wear that dress Tsubaki picked out for you _ages_ ago, and _you. Will. Like. It._ Right?"

Maka swallowed convulsively, not fooled by the sweetness in her friend's voice. "Uh, right. Yeah."

Liz grinned; it was more like a baring of teeth. "Great. Tsubaki, can you help her get ready while me and Pati rummage for something appropriate in our own wardrobes?"

"Erm, sure," said Tsubaki meekly. The tall, black-haired weapon rolled her indigo eyes and took Maka's hand, leading her down a hall to the closet where Liz kept her spare clothes.

When they were out of sight, Liz pulled out her phone and hit speed dial. He picked up on the first ring.

"Hey," she said quietly, being sure that Maka wouldn't overhear her. The person on the other line said something in an equally soft tone of voice, which a disgruntled Pati couldn't understand even with her ear fighting for a place on the phone.

"The one on Sunset? When? Alright, we'll be there. Wait, how 'bout an hour later? Be weird if…Yeah, yeah. Uh-huh. Alright then. 'Bye!"

Liz hung up and turned her scheming smile to her little sister.

"Kid said they're already there."

…

"Holy shit, dude, is that _Maka_?" Blackstar shouted over the thrumming bass.

Soul jerked around reflexively, only to have the blue-haired ninja laugh and clap him on the back.

"Nope, my bad. That chick isn't near as flat. But hey, if you wanna see her so bad, why dontcha ditch guys' night?"

Soul glowered balefully and took another swipe at his friend, who, this time, wasn't fast enough—or was just too drunk—to avoid it. Blackstar tumbled backwards off of the table, crashing on top of a couple dancing nearby. After a few choice swear words—from the couple, not Blackstar; he thought it was hilarious—the assassin clambered to his feet and the dancers moved away with simmering looks at the boy who looked way too young to be there.

"Jesus Blackstar, would you just give it a rest?" Soul demanded.

Blackstar was saved from having to answer by Kid's more than stunned face appearing at Soul's side. He looked majorly flustered.

"Hey Kid. You look like shit. What's up?" said Soul, leaning back in his seat.

"Ahm…er… Tonight… Guy's night… Well, girls…uh…that is to say…" he mumbled incoherently.

"Dude, English, please," Soul teased, thumping his friend on the back.

"Well, uh, tonight was guy's night out…" Kid said unhelpfully.

"Yeah, that's why we're here," Blackstar pointed out. A little mechanically.

"And it's girl's night out…"

"Which is why they're _not_ here." Again, a bit robotic. As though a badly rehearsed line in a play. Soul frowned. Kid gulped.

"Er, well, actually…" he muttered. "They kind of…Well, they're at the bar now."

"_WHAT?_" Soul lunged to his feet.

Kid stumbled back warily, and even Blackstar looked taken aback.

"Maka's at the _bar_?" he roared.

"N-no! Well, she was sitting with Liz and Tsubaki up there, but she wasn't _drinking_ anything. Not that I saw, anyway."

Soul relaxed a little, but then a confused look crossed his face. "Uh, why are they here?"

"I'd imagine they're here to drink and dance and hook up with some hot guys. You know, same reason we're here. Minus the hot guys, 'course."

Soul shot Blackstar a sharp look. The ninja just shrugged and downed his fourth shot of whiskey.

"I don't see why it's such a big deal," Blackstar shrugged, unusually level-headed. "'S not like we can't still have the time of our fuckin' lives, is it?"

Kid nodded enthusiastically, but suddenly Soul found that he could no longer enjoy the chaotic atmosphere. He was too busy scanning the crowd for a familiar, uniform-clad and reserved form. He didn't see it. At one point, long after Blackstar had ditched him in favor of some hot chick who'd been giving him goo-goo eyes for the past half hour, Soul saw Liz dancing in _quite_ the dirty fashion with Pati, amidst a ring of serious horn-dogs.

_I'd call 'em pervs_, thought Soul, _but that's kinda hot._

But then something else caught his attention. A slender girl, adorned in navy blue raw silk and silver shoes, flirting with a couple of guys at the bar, a short glass of amber liquid in her hand. She laughed loudly.

The dress was revealing, skimming down her legs to just past her knees, but with slits on either side that sliced half way up her thighs. Slits also cut along the sides of her waist, not noticeable until she moved, and then they showed teasing glimpses of fair skin. The sleeves were off-the-shoulder, and made of transparent black lace that clung to her slim arms down to her tiny wrists. The front was modest enough, showing just a hint of cleavage, but the back plunged down in a steep V that ended just above her hips. It left a lot of cream-colored skin exposed. A _lot_. Too much. That back made it very plain to anyone with eyes that she was _not _wearing a bra. That dress was sexy.

And Soul did _not_ want his meister wearing it.

That's right. It was _Maka_ wearing that clingy-ass, revealing dress and those damned sparkly heels that made her legs look damn sexy. Her eyelashes were longer and fuller, her lips cherry red. The makeup was actually pretty minimal; just a bit of bronzing and highlighting to bring out the sharper planes and angles of her face. Her hair was pulled up in a carefully messy bun, stray strands curling around her glowing face. She looked great. This was not lost on Soul. Nor was the fact that those three guys all clearly thought the same thing.

One of the guys said something, and Maka shrugged, her reply lost amongst the noise. He took the drink from her and set it on a table, pulling her out onto the dance floor. His sullen-looking buddies wandered off, and Soul rose to his feet. He didn't have to cover his motives—Blackstar had already left with that girl, and Kid had vanished into the crowd somewhere. So Soul strode over to that table and lifted Maka's abandoned glass, still half full, to his nose. Smelled like soda, not alcohol. And yet, not quite. There was the faintest hint of something more bitter. Soul frowned, and took a small, hesitant sip. Nah, it was just cream soda. How lame. But…hold on. Again Soul sensed something bitter. What was it? Not alcohol. He was familiar enough with that. This was something different…

Oh, fuck.

No, it was definitely not alcohol. It was way god-fucking-damn worse.

The glass slid from his numb fingers; it crashed to the floor, shattering loudly. Nobody flinched at the noise. His eyes darted over the dance floor with new purpose now. He couldn't see her. He shoved his way through the throngs of people—they barely glanced at him—searching for his friend. A ha! There she was, dancing with that same guy. Only it wasn't the kind of dancing Maka knew. Not the kind of dancing _his_ Maka would ever do. The guy was grinding intimately against her, his arms caging her to his chest when she tried to pull back. Her emerald eyes were already starting to look a little hazy. The guy grinned and stepped back, keeping a hand on her waist. With the other hand he tilted her face up, satisfied when he saw the size her pupils. Still grinning, the stranger pulled Maka from the floor.

Double fuck. Soul sprinted after them, barreling people over, just barely keeping Maka in his sight. In a sick way, Soul was glad for the added stumbling clumsiness of his meister's normally graceful movements; they slowed down that other guy enough that Soul was able to tail the pair of them until they left the building. Soul burst out into the cool night air, looking around furiously, that feverish glint of panic filling him as he searched.

_There!_ He screamed inwardly, sprinting off after the staggering pair. As he grew nearer, Soul could make out the faint reluctances that Maka slurred.

"Hey!" he shouted finally, almost on them. "Dumbfuck!"

Maka's nameless companion swerved around, disbelief flaring on his face.

"You talkin' to me?" he demanded. Soul sneered, noticing out of his peripheral that Maka looked faintly relieved.

"_Nah_, I'm talkin' to friend over there," Soul jeered, pointing to a streetlamp a few feet away.

The idiot followed the gesture. In the time it took the man to look back, Soul was on him, knee shoved painfully into his most sensitive area.

"Hey!" the guy choked. "I need that—to—fuck!"

"You mean rape, dumbass?" Soul demanded, pushing harder. The man gave an ungodly squeal of pain. "That's what you were planning to do, wasn't it?"

"Don't—know—you—talking—!" the guy spluttered.

"My ass! You slipped this girl roofies in her damn drink, jackass!" I snarled. "How many other girls've you given the same treatment? You fucker, I should kill you for even talking to her!"

Soul didn't catch what the man choked out next. Another, much softer voice penetrated the enraged haze that covered his brain.

"Soul…" she whimpered. His head whipped around; she was kneeling on the ground, staring at him with that drug-induced haze, but he could see that she was fighting to stay coherent and aware.

"Maka?"

"Soul…don't…don't kill him," she murmured, crawling to his side and putting a trembling hand over his.

"He deserves it, Maka," Soul growled. The man whimpered. "Pathetic," he spat.

She shook her head slowly. He could see the effort she was making to remain sentient. She tried to hold his hand; he felt her fingers tense, but they didn't quite obey her.

"Turn him…turn him in. To the police. They'll put…put him in…prison…life sentence…"

I gave her a long look, then turned back to the man with a scowl. "It's your lucky day, punk. You should be glad she was here, otherwise you'd already be dead."

Again the guy whimpered, but Soul rocked back on his heels and stood, hauling up the stranger by his throat and dragging him to a pay-phone. Those scarlet eyes never left the huge, bloodshot ones of the would-be rapist as he dialed three numbers and gave the address.

In no time, a cop car pulled up, and a tall man in uniform stepped out. He took one look at the bleary eyes of the girl clutching the arm of a tall, furious-looking teenager, who in turn had a death grip on another man's throat.

"You Soul?" checked the officer. Soul nodded wordlessly and thrust the scumbag toward the cop.

"Rapist. Doesn't deserve a fucking trial—he's guilty as guilty can get—but do whatever you want," he growled, wrapping an arm around the dazed girl's waist.

"She looks a little young to be here," the officer noticed. Soul waved away his concerns.

"She _is _a little young to be here. Doubt she wanted to come, 'specially dressed like _that_."

"A little young to be so drunk, too."

"She's not drunk, moron. That asshat slipped a fuckin' date rape drug in her drink. She's not the first one, either."

The officer frowned at the kid's manners, and his language, but nodded and shoved the man into the car without another word.

"Thanks for the call, kid," he said, and climbed into the car. The black-and-white vehicle drove away, and Soul was left supporting Maka outside of the club.

"Hey, Maka, let's get you some water," said Soul after a minute. "Might clear your head a little."

She nodded slowly and allowed him to guide her slowly back into the building. Nobody paid them any attention as they made their way to the bar. The bartender took one look at Maka and, thinking she'd had too much to drink, slapped down a full glass of water and some saltine crackers.

Maka tried to pick up the glass, but her fingers wouldn't quite obey her, and Soul ended up having to pour it into her mouth for her.

"Damn, Maka, never take a drink from someone you don't know in a place like this," Soul grumbled, setting the empty glass back on the counter. With a wordless gesture, Soul requested a refill, and the tender obliged.

Maka nodded again, and nibbled half-heartedly at a cracker. Her eyelids drooped. Soul got a few more swallows of water out of her before she slumped against his shoulder, finally losing consciousness.

"Could you call us a cab?" he requested, gesturing to his out-cold companion.

The bartender gave the girl a bemused look, but did as Soul requested.

"It'll be here in fifteen minutes."

Soul nodded. "Thanks."

…

That night Soul held Maka close as the drugs wore off, and she cried herself to sleep for being so stupid.


	5. A Fool's Mistake

She'd been spending more and more time away from the apartment. Maka would wake up before Soul in the morning, make breakfast and leave it on the counter for him, and then skip out before he was out of bed. She'd stay out late—later than she ever had before, what with her whole uptight _sleep-is-essential-to-keep-up-in-school_ regimen. Soul couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his meister's head that had been making her act so sporadically and crazily and so utterly unlike herself. He brought this up to her once, and she'd dismissed him with a wave of her hand, saying it was nothing important. _That_ was new. She'd never been one to blow off his questions. She hadn't even tried to come up with a weak, ill-founded excuse.

But what worried him the most was that she hadn't Maka-Chopped him once, not even for getting a nosebleed when Blair came out of the bathroom without so much as a towel to clothe herself. That was what concerned him the most. Well, that and the fact that, aside from training, she seemed to be keeping her soul wavelength under lock and key. On a tight lockdown, as it were. He could sense it while they practiced and sparred with others, and he caught a lot of unfamiliar feelings. Unfamiliar only because they came from his meister. He knew what he would call those feelings, if and when he himself had them.

Jealousy. Anxiety. Fear. That frightened him the most. Maka, his tough as nails meister, his all time best friend, did not get _afraid._ Or jealous. Or anxious. Or _afraid_.

Soul had tried to talk to her about it, but once more, she waved him off, insisting that nothing at all was wrong. But he still felt her wavelengths in training. And he still read her like an open book—not that he knew what one of those actually looked like, but the expression seemed appropriate. The tautness in her shoulders. The shadows lurking in her olive eyes. The way her lips tightened infinitesimally when her attention flickered to him. It hadn't escaped his notice, either, that she only spoke to him in short, clipped sentences, if she spoke to him at all. He had to wonder what he had done to make her behave like that. Had he done something wrong? Said something he shouldn't have?

"Still haven't figured it out with Maka yet?" Liz asked sympathetically. They were sitting at a table in the park, beneath the shade of some old oak trees, watching Pati show a bunch of little kids how to draw giraffes. Blackstar and Kid were shooting hoops on the basketball court; Tsubaki had taken Maka with her on a walk.

Soul sighed and shook his head, scowling at the green canopy above them, the sunlight seeming to make the leaves glow. A lot like Maka's eyes when she was happy. Which she rarely was, anymore. Around him, at least. He would still see her on occasion, before she was aware of his presence, talking and laughing animatedly with Harvar and Blackstar and Kid and the others. Liz gave her own sigh and sat back in her chair, arms stretched behind her.

"Maybe Tsubaki will manage to work something outa our girl," she shrugged.

Soul jerked his head in a noncommittal fashion, and Liz slid back forward on her seat, dark blue eyes flashing with compassion.

"This isn't forever, Soul," she assured him. "We all know how Maka is; she gets mad for a while—sometimes a _long_ while—but then she finally stops, takes a breather, and figures out that staying pissed isn't doing anybody any good. She won't be mad at you forever. You guys are best friends. She'll get over it for you."

Soul didn't answer. His meister had done a pretty damn good job of staying mad so far. It'd been _weeks_ since they'd really talked about anything more substantial than the rent on the apartment. Her eyes hadn't lost their resemblance to green steel when she looked at him; her mouth hadn't lost that tautness.

It wasn't for lack of trying, though. Soul tried and tried and damn _tried_ to get anything out of her. He got her flowers—tiger lilies, because they reminded him of her, sweet but sharp at the same time—he made her breakfast, he cleaned the apartment _without being asked_. He even paid attention in class! But Maka seemed to be waiting for something else. Something he didn't have the slightest inkling of. He wanted to fix things, he really did, even though he didn't know what exactly the reason was that he _needed_ to fix anything. But Maka…Maka just wouldn't give him the chance.

"If it makes you feel any better, Kid's been acting a little weird lately," Liz commented idly, watching as her meister made a perfect three-pointer into the basket. Blackstar exploded and started shouting something about _letting_ Kid make that shot, because that's what a good god would do.

"He always acts weird, Liz," said Soul dismissively. She snorted.

"True, but I mean weird for _him_. Which is to say, almost normal."

Soul looked at her sharply. "Kid? Not possible."

Liz nodded. "Totally possible. He hasn't been freaking out over symmetry near as much; didn't even comment on the fact that there's only one, off-center steering wheel in a car this morning when he drove us down here. Hasn't even worried about the lines in his hair either. It's starting to freak me out."

Soul waved it off. "It's just Kid. He'll be back to normal soon enough."

She mumbled something incoherent, but Soul didn't bother trying to listen. Tsubaki and Maka had just appeared by the court, heads bent together as though they were sharing secrets. Soul resisted the urge to shout, or walk over there, as he would normally do, because he wouldn't risk Tsubaki finding out anything that might help unravel this mystery.

But when Tsubaki looked over there, at Soul, there was no sympathy or understanding. Her eyes were cold and hard, so unlike her usual soft, compassionate indigo gaze that Soul found himself squinting to make sure he saw correctly. Nope, her expression didn't change. Liz caught me looking and followed his gaze.

"Wonder what's got Tsubaki wired up?" Liz murmured, frowning when the tall Dark Arm waved her over emphatically, still scowling at Soul. "I'll be right back, Soul."

Two minutes later, Liz was proved a liar. She didn't come back. She stood with the other two girls, throwing Soul dark looks alongside Tsubaki while they talked about things Soul could only imagine. What had he _done_? What the Hell had he _done_ to warrant such a response? He hated this—every minute where Maka didn't talk to him, where she looked at him with cold detachment, where she refused to even _touch_ him, was agony to Soul. Couldn't she see that? Couldn't she see how she was _hurting_ him? What. Had. He. _Done?_

Just before they all split up to leave, Liz slapped him and Tsubaki called him a pig. What the _hell_?

…

Damnit, he was tired of this. This cycle was _over_. He didn't care if they missed school. He was not letting Maka go anywhere until she talked to him.

Soul stood from his bed, groaning as his stiff joints popped and cracked. When he came out of the hall and into the main room, Maka was just shrugging into her coat.

"Hey, hold on a second," he said drowsily, waving at her.

She scowled at him and bent down to pull on her boots. Aggravated, Soul slouched to her side and, fingers wrapping around her tiny wrist, hauled her to her feet.

"Hey—Soul!" she snapped, trying to pull away as he towed her to the couch. He pushed her roughly down, and held her there when she tried to get up. His fingers bit into the skin of her biceps, holding her firmly where she sat.

"No, Maka, you're not going anywhere," he growled. "Not until you tell me what the Hell is going on with you lately."

Her chin jutted out in that stubborn way of hers. "I've told you—it's nothing!"

"Don't feed me that crap Maka," he snapped, getting right up in her face. "You've been treating me like a goddamn pariah for over a _month_. You even got Liz and Tsubaki backing you. _Tsubaki_! No matter what I do, you won't even tell me what's going on! If you're going to treat me like that, I at least deserve to know _why_!"

"Soul, we need to get to scho—"

"I don't give a damn about school," he interrupted. "We are not going _anywhere_ until this issue is taken care of. You've spent enough time dancing around it, and I've spent way more than enough time myself walking on eggshells trying to make you happy. You are going to tell me what the fuck is going on, even if we have to stay here for a week." By the end of this, his eyes stung and the back of his throat ached. _How uncool_, he muttered to himself. But his meister was worth more than his "cool" image.

She looked at him, really, truly _looked_, and Soul saw that steely gaze soften just a little. Well, that was something.

"You really don't know, do you?" she said quietly after a long moment.

"Not a clue," he let out a broken chuckle. "Not a single damn idea."

Maka heaved a great sigh and slumped back against the couch; Soul cautiously released his hold on her, relieved when she didn't bolt, and settled himself down beside her. Hesitantly Soul took her hand, and relaxed further when she didn't pull away.

"C'mon, Maka, I'm your partner," Soul sighed, rubbing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. "You can talk to me if something's wrong."

There was a long pause. Then, without looking at him, Maka spoke softly.

"I saw you."

Soul frowned, bemused. "You saw me what?"

"I saw you with Jackie."

He stiffened. _Ah…_

"But…Why…"

Maka snorted.

"I didn't like seeing it. I really _didn't _like seeing my partner sucking face with one of the most superficial girls at the Academy."

Soul ran a hand through his hair, relieved that he had a truthful explanation for that one. Thank Death.

"Yeah, well, it didn't do much for me, either, Maka."

She gave him a sharp look.

"It didn't?" He shook his head. "Then why were you—"

"Blame Blackstar," he grumbled. "Truth-or-dare is dangerous with him. It was better than the alternative, though. Only a fool plays that with Blackstar."

"Truth or dare?" The relief in Maka's voice was undisguised. "_That's_ why you kissed Jackie?"

Soul shuddered.

"Yeah, and I will _never_ do that again. She drools way too much; it's really gross."

Maka slapped her hand over her mouth to muffle the giggle that escaped her lips. Soul squeezed her hand gently; she squeezed back, and he smiled for the first time in weeks. He pulled her toward him, wrapping an arm around her waist and tucking her against his side.

"Is that really all that was bugging you?" Soul inquired, breath ruffling her hair.

"Well…yeah," she said sheepishly. He chuckled and kissed her forehead; he heard her sharp intake of breath and smiled against her skin.

"Why'd it bother you so much?"

Maka stiffened and squirmed, but he only tightened his hold on her.

"Soul, we're already late for class. We should get going."

"Nope, better truant than tardy. And I told you, we were staying here til you told me what the problem was. I'm waiting."

And he was. With baited breath, as it were.

She muttered a string of profanities that were very foreign coming from her innocent mouth. Finally, though, she gave up her anger and slumped back against his side. Soul smirked triumphantly.

"Well?"

"It…made me feel…a little…" she grumbled, trailing off and muttering unintelligibly. Soul though it was more profanity.

"A little…" he prompted.

"…Jealous," she bit off, and smacked him hard when he laughed. "Shut up, Soul!"

That only made him laugh harder. For about two seconds. Then his laugh turned into a pained grunt.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, jerking the travel book from his head and tossing it aside. "Jeez, relax Maka, I'm _messing_ with you!"

She huffed, but allowed him to draw her back to his side.

"Jealousy's pretty uncool, though," he mused, and caught her wrist just before another tome that looked suspiciously like _War and Peace_ found a home in his skull. "Hey, whoa, again, messing with you."

"Cut it out Soul, it's not funny. It's _embarrassing_," she grumbled. He tightened his hold on her.

"How?"

"Do you even _know_ how much crap I've gotten from the girls for liking my _weapon_? In more than a platonic way," she added when he opened his mouth to object. He fell silent, staring at her for such a long time she had to wonder if there was something on her face.

"Uhm, Soul? Something wr—" she cut herself off with a surprised squeal.

Just this morning, Maka had been determined to forget thinking about Soul in any way but as her weapon. She had been convinced he'd kissed Jackie to spite her, because she'd said, in a fit of anger, that no girl with half a brain would _ever_ have anything to do with Soul.

But there she was now, with Soul Eater Evans pressing his lips to hers. He glided over her mouth, slid down her jaw to her chin, kissed the spot just below her lips, and then returned to starting point. His hands pulled her closer, landing her in a position where she straddled his lap, and she didn't care. She let his arms wrap around her waist, just as she let her hands tangle in his mass of snow white hair. His mouth slanted over hers, gently prying her own lips apart. She obliged, not really knowing why, but—!

The tip of Soul's tongue traced her lower lip, then her upper one, then dove past them. She gasped at the ten-times foreign feeling of her partner's tongue in her mouth, but she didn't pull back. There was something to the way his tongue stroked her own that was oddly provocative, something Maka was not known for being nor feeling. But that sensation, that truly odd and amazing feeling of their mouths merging entirely, started a hot, blazing fire inside her. She pulled him closer and kissed him back, exulting in the fire, stoking it, spreading it.

She felt Soul grin against her lips, and before she knew how, she was pinned to the couch, him laying on top of her, still kissing her with a feverish intensity.

When they finally parted, both were breathing heavily. Maka was flushed. Both pairs of eyes were hooded and glazed over. Soul was propped up on his forearms, looking down at Maka with a huge grin, very reminiscent of a shark.

"You're the only person for me, Maka," he murmured, brushing his fingers across her cheek in a gesture so gentle, it just didn't seem natural for Soul to be using. "No one else is cool enough for me."

She smiled in spite of herself and hugged Soul to her, burying her face in his chest. Soul rolled so that he wouldn't crush her and wrapped his arms around her, one hand playing with a pigtail in her hair.

"Y'know," he said idly. "You should wear your hair down more often. It looks cooler. Plus, pigtails only work til you're ten. And you are _not_ ten."

"I know I'm not ten!" she said indignantly. "And I really don't care. Pigtails keep my hair out of my face.

"So would a ponytail, or a braid," he pointed out, laughing when she pinched his stomach. "Hey, easy there."

There was a moment of comfortable silence. Then something occurred to Maka.

"Soul?"

"Mm?"

"What was the alternative? To kissing Jackie?"

He chuckled and rumpled her hair.

"Telling you how I felt."

She flushed a deep shade of crimson. Instead of responding to that, she leaned up, and met Soul's lips with hers in a heated kiss.

Outside, peering in one of the windows, Blackstar grinned evilly.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Well, I hope that was to your liking ^_^ I really enjoyed writing this one; I hope you enjoyed reading it as well. R&amp;R please!<em>**


	6. The Young And The Blind

_**Okay, just a quick FYI: this chapter takes place at about the same time as last chapter, but more from Maka's perspective. There's a method to my madness, I assure you **__**;) **__**After all, I'm sure you want to know why Kid was acting so strange…**_

…

Maka's shoulders were shaking viciously, the warm and gentle arms around her the only things that kept her from falling apart completely. What had she just _seen_? Why had it been _her _to see it? It hurt. It really, truly tore at her. Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw the same scene again, right outside the school building, where she'd been waiting for her weapon partner so that they could ride home on the bike.

"Maka?" murmured her companion.

She sniffed and pulled back. Kid looked down at her with concerned, compassionate gold eyes. He had been the first friend she'd come across as she fled the scene, and she had flung her arms around him without so much as a hello, burying her face in his chest. He'd asked her what was wrong, of course, but he only got a sob in response, so he steered her to a secluded corner of the library—duh, where else would she go?—and just held her as she cried and cried.

"Maka, what happened?" he asked, gripping her biceps tightly. "You never cry. What on earth happened?"

She shook her head. "It wasn't—"

"Don't tell me it isn't anything. I repeat: _you never cry_. So why are you, now?" he said, shaking her slightly for emphasis.

Maka looked away and took a deep, shaky breath, attempting to steady herself. When she looked back at Kid, she was only a little more composed.

"Soul…S-Soul was…He…"

"Soul? Has something happened to him?" Kid said, alarmed. "Is he alright?"

Maka chuckled darkly; a sound almost as disturbing as the sound of her tears.

"Oh, he's fine. I'm sure he was enjoying himself just fine."

Kid frowned and leaned down, looking Maka straight in the eyes. Her emerald gaze locked onto his topaz one, his unerringly fierce, hers unbelievably fragile. Like threads of emerald colored glass, or maybe olive tinted ice—her gaze was so delicate.

"What was he doing, Maka? What did he do?" She grimaced and looked away again. "_Maka_."

"Him and Jackie were playing tonsil hockey outside the school," she mumbled.

"Uhm…playing what?" Kid asked, confused. She gave a weak try at a giggle.

"Tonsil hockey. They were sucking face, French-kissing, making ou—"

"Okay, okay, I understand!" Kid exclaimed, clapping a hand over her mouth to stop the stream of elaborations. "Spare my poor ears!"

Maka sighed and leaned back against him, forehead resting on his chest; Kid fiddled idly with one of her pigtails.

"So, basically, they were kissing?"

Maka gave a noncommittal "Mm-hm…"

Kid snorted.

"Idiot," he growled. "Complete, total moron."

"Insults aren't exactly appreciated right now, Kid," she said, attempting an angry tone but failing soundly. "Totally not necessary."

"I'm not insulting you, Maka," he said patiently. "I'm insulting the scythe that's too stupid to see how you feel about him."

"Should I feel proud that I managed to keep it from _somebody_?" she attempted humor; again, without success.

Kid sighed and rested his chin on the crown of her head. "I shouldn't think so, Maka. Out of everybody that _should_ know, Soul would be at the top of the list. Besides, you shouldn't feel like you have to hide these kinds of things. It's all part of adolescence; it definitely isn't something to be ashamed of."

"But it's just so _cliché_!"

"So? What if he liked you back?"

For a moment, Maka had nothing to say to that. Then another problem slithered into her morbid thoughts.

"Yeah? What if he did? What if we got together, got married, had kids, whatever, and then ended up like my parents? Cheating on each other, splitting up, and leaving any kids we had to flail around alone and figure things out for themselves?"

"Whoa, whoa, there, Maka. Nobody said anything about you two getting _married_!" Kid almost laughed. Almost, but he restrained himself. "You could just try the dating thing, and see if that worked out. If he cheats on you, you end it. But Soul…well, Soul's got a lot of problems, doesn't he? But loyalty isn't one of them. He at least has got that figured out."

Maka shrugged.

"All this hypothetical talk is great and all, but that's all it is: hypothetical. Loyalty notwithstanding, Soul's got no feelings for me. I'm his friend, that's it. He treats me like a little sister. He would never go for someone as plain and flat-chested and boring as—"

"Damnit, Maka, you need to quit taking those things he says to heart!" Kid snapped. Maka blinked in surprise. "That's just Soul being Soul! You should know better than anybody how he gets—says whatever he thinks makes him seem _cool_. You _know_ he doesn't _mean_ any of those things. Aside from the violent bookworm quips. Hey!"

Maka had just been about to impale him with a dangerous-looking corner of a thick book. Kid caught her wrist to prevent any damage, but another book slammed into his skull so hard that he saw stars and planets circling around his head.

_Pointing out simple facts about Maka that aren't altogether complementary, _thought Kid blearily, _while in a library is just asking for punishment._

"That wasn't an insult, Maka. That's a simple fact that you just proved," Kid couldn't resist that as he dislodged the thick tome and rubbed the sore spot gingerly.

"Whatever," she grumbled, pulling away from him. Her emerald eyes, usually so bright and lively, were hidden in the shadow of her bangs. Kid reached forward and brushed her bangs back; her eyes were downcast. He tapped her chin gently.

"Hey, chin up. There's no point in getting depressed about it. Figure out a way to solve this dilemma."

"Hmph. How am I gonna do that?"

"You're a great problem-solver, Maka. You'll figure something out," Kid assured her, wrapping a friendly arm around her shoulders and tucking her to his side.

…

"Not exactly what I meant when I said you should fix this," said Kid, looking between Maka, who was sitting beside him, watching Blackstar and Pati go one-on-one on the basket ball court, and Soul, who was talking sullenly to Liz on the other side. The tension that had developed between them was nearly visible; it crackled between the pair like electricity. Soul didn't know this, of course. He just knew that Maka was basically ignoring him, or else giving him the same level of attention as she gave Ox or Kilik or Harvar normally.

"Yeah, well, I think this is the best thing for both of us," she sighed, leaning back against his knees.

Kid was sitting on a bench; Maka sat in front of him, allowing him to play with her hair. He'd already managed a "beautifully perfect hairstyle that was entirely symmetrical in every conceivable way", which looked a lot like rope braid, and he'd put her hair into a fishtail as well, with reasonable success. She hadn't even known her hair was long enough to permit these kind of hairstyles. Now he was working on something that, if Maka had to guess, was a Dutch or French braid wrapping all the way around her head.

"Do you really think that?" Kid wondered. "Or is this just easier for you?"

She huffed indignantly, but said nothing to the contrary. "So what if it is easier?"

"That would mean you're just running from the problem, not solving it," he said passively.

He released her hair when she whipped around to glare at him; her carefully styled braided crown came undone and her loose hair cascaded down her shoulders.

"Shut up, Kid!" she snapped. "I'm not _running_ from anything. I just think it's better for both of us if there's nothing more than a weapon-meister relationship going on."

"Have you at least talked to him about it?" asked Kid calmly. "Because it certainly doesn't seem to be doing him a world of good. He's been even more surly than usual these last couple weeks, and you haven't exactly been a ray of sunshine. Are you quite positive that this is better for both of you?"

She rose to her feet in agitation, fixing him with a withering stare. "Yeah, I _am,_ Kid. Butt out, seriously. Just leave well enough alone for once." And she stormed off, calling something about studying to the others. Soul's eyes followed her, then slid to Kid, then back to her. Hurriedly he said something to Liz and then hastened after his meister.

Unseen by anyone else, Kid shook his head. "Those two are more blind then anyone has any right to be."

…

Kid sighed. Maka was falling deeper into that depression. She had continued to alienate Soul, whose own emotional health was taking a severe downward spiral.

_Why can't she see?_ He wondered sadly. Soul was as ignorant as ignorant could get. He was arrogant, he was lazy, and his grades were less than shining. How he held a girl like Maka's affections was anyone's guess, but it grated on Kid's nerves. Soul didn't _deserve_ Maka. Sure, he had his moments of extreme profoundness, but those were few and far in between.

But Kid was smart, he was neat, he was considerate, and he was _smart_. He cared about others, he kept himself and his space clean, his grades were high. He was _perfect_ for Maka. But she just couldn't see how he felt. It was unfortunate, really. He was sure he'd be able to cheer her up.

Oh, well. You can't win them all. That's what Kid's father would tell him. Who knew? Maybe Soul and Maka would work out. It wasn't exactly a secret that Soul cared for her. It's just that no one was sure _how much_ he cared. And it was common knowledge how much _Maka_ cared.

Their friends were sure that they'd figure it out eventually.

…

Liz and Tsubaki's parting words to Soul on their latest group outing came in the form of a slap and a muttered _pig_. They'd gotten the story out of Maka at last. Pati couldn't care less what it was about; she hit Soul just because she could. Blackstar didn't get what was such a big deal. Kid just remained silent and listened passively to Liz's rant on how some guys were just so clueless and arrogant and disgusting that it made her sick.

…

The next day, neither Soul nor Maka showed up at school. Students were taking bets left and right on whether the pair had finally gotten into a full-out fight, whom was mostly likely to kill whom, and how badly hurt they'd be when—_if_, some said—they came back. Ridiculous. That was the gang's opinion. Others just needed to grow up and keep their noses in their own business.

Besides, who was to say they had gotten into it with each other? For all they knew, the partners had simply slept in, or one of them had fallen ill and the other stayed back to take care of them. Hell, maybe they'd just taken a mission without telling anyone. That sounded like something Soul Eater would do, after lying to Maka that _of course_ he told their friends. It wouldn't have been the first time, that was certain.

But, as all the students had to go on were guesses, each one more wild than the last, it wasn't like anybody knew for sure why the truant partners were, well, _truant_. Tsubaki suggested that they all visit their apartment after school, and see for themselves if any of the rumors were true. Everyone willingly agreed.

So, when the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, they all packed up and headed for the flat. Blackstar, being ever impatient, bounded ahead until they had lost sight of him.

"Don't worry, Tsubaki," laughed Liz. "What's the worst that could happen with him out of sight?"

They all thought about this for a moment, and doubled their pace. But, they needn't have worried. There was the blue-haired ninja now, barreling toward them with all the force of an eighteen wheeler going a hundred miles an hour. He was shouting at the top of his voice, babbling so fast that even Pati couldn't understand him.

"Whoa, whoa, Blackstar, slow down!" Liz shouted, grabbing him by the shoulders. "What the Hell are you trying to say?"

A huge, evil grin was threatening to split his face in half. His blue eyes glinted with mischief.

"Soul and Maka were sucking face on their living room couch!" he cried. "I saw them! I went to the window, and I saw them French-kissing the Hell outa each other!"

They all froze. Looked around at one another. Looked back at Blackstar.

"Are you sure?" asked Tsubaki. "You tend to make mistakes when you're excited—"

"A god like me would never make a mistake like this, Tsubaki!" he shouted gleefully, doing a flip in the air in his enthusiasm.

Liz vanished. By the time the others could pinpoint her, she was a tiny figure sprinting for all it was worth toward the small apartment complex with their two-and-a-half bedroom flat.

"Uh-oh…" murmured Pati.

"Those two are never going to hear the end of it," Kid agreed.

"Shouldn't we go after her?" asked Tsubaki concernedly. "So she doesn't do anything too…drastic?"

"What's the rush?" asked Blackstar.

"I'd rather not pay for their funeral just yet, Blackstar," said Kid coolly. "And as excited as Liz is, she'd likely either hug them until they couldn't breathe, or she would topple one of Maka's bookcases on them for not telling her about this new turn of events."

"Eh, they'll be fine," said Blackstar dismissively. "But I'm gonna run ahead and watch, just in case!"

And then he too disappeared, Pati running along behind him.

Kid and Tsubaki sighed and made their way after their overzealous companions.

…

_**Okay, message or review telling me if you think I should continue this with Kid! I wouldn't mind ending it here, but I wouldn't mind continuing either! Feedback, pretty please with two cherries on top? ;)**_


	7. Something They Share

He was tall and proper, with perfect posture and fair skin. His clothing was stark and business like, perfectly even and identical on each side. He wore two silver skull rings; one on each of his middle fingers. His eyes were gold and amber, like miniature suns. His hair was jet black, with a perfectly even cut, but the symmetry was finally lost here. Three white stripes blazed against the black on the left side of his head, but not the right side.

He was Death the Kid. But you can call him Kid.

She was tall and wild, with a nicely tanned complexion and a rather lazy attitude. Her clothing was minimal and ostentatious, accenting her best assets rather a lot; red sweaters that barely covered her chest, skin-tight jeans, the works. She had dusky blonde hair that hung to her slender shoulders, unaware that the asymmetry of it drove a certain person crazy. Her eyes were the clear blue of a summer sky.

She was Elizabeth Thompson. But you can call her Liz.

He was smart. He was careful. He had major OCD. He was a grim reaper, son of Lord Death, and the wielder of two powerful twin pistols who, in their human forms, are as different as sun and rain. He was powerful: that was never in doubt. But he was strange. People whispered that the only reason he hadn't lost it altogether was because of his weapon partners, who "quieted his neurotic tendencies".

He was crazy.

She was a bit ditzy. She was superficial. She was afraid of everything. She was one of two twin pistols, the other being her sister Patricia, and she was the partner of the next grim reaper. She was a strong weapon, of that there was no denying. She had a great life, but it hadn't started off that way. She and her sister had grown up on the streets, fighting tooth and nail for everything; Kid had saved them from that life.

She was lucky.

He was her best friend. He looked after her like she was the little sister he never had, although he was actually younger than her. He took her with him when he started at the DWMA along with her sister. He was her partner, her technician. He trained her and her sister to be Death Scythes. He lived in the same house as her, right next to her bedroom. He gave her everything he had, everything she could possibly want, which was a lot. But he didn't see the way she looked at him; didn't give her what she wanted most.

He was a kindhearted fool.

She was his weapon partner. True, not the only one, but she was his. She was his best friend. She aimed to protect him to her best ability, but sometimes her fear would get the better of that desire, at least temporarily. She went with him to the Death Weapon Meister Academy, where they learned what it meant, and what it took, to become a Death Scythe. She looked at him, and she saw everything that was good. She saw kindness and compassion, strength and wisdom. She knew him. She wanted him. She didn't tell him.

She was a sentimental liar.

Their differences were boundless, but they were what kept them together. Her laid-back attitude was perfect to counteract his moments of insanity in which he was extremely vulnerable. His intelligence and his kindness helped her to work through her fear, and saved her life many times over. But they, too, have something in common.

They'd do anything for each other.


	8. Inner Conflict

Maka and Soul sprang apart, flushing a brilliant scarlet to rival the scythe's eyes.

"Liz! What are you—" Maka started, but Liz cut across her.

"Oh my Death!" she shouted, jumping around in a way reminiscent of her little sister. "I _knew_ it! I _knew_ this would happen! Why the _hell_ didn't you guys tell me before?"

She grabbed Soul by the shoulders, and he flinched, although her grip was not yet hurting him. Her dark blue eyes, just for a moment, turned hard and intense.

"You'd better be damn awesome to our little Maka, Soul Eater, you hear?" she threatened. He swallowed and nodded. Instantly Liz switched back to her excited happy dance. Maka muttered something about bipolar syndrome, and Soul was slowly easing back, toward the kitchen window. He took Maka's hand, and they were almost to the window without the pistol noticing when a voice behind them made the pair jump into the air, the tips of Soul's wild hair brushing the ceiling.

"Yahoo! I couldn't believe it when I saw you two making out!" Blackstar hooted, gliding through the open window. "I couldn't run fast enough to tell the others, and once I did, I couldn't even…keep up…with…"

Blackstar's voice trailed off to nothing at the murderous look on the young scythe meister's face.

"Blackstar…" Maka growled, advancing on the blue-haired ninja.

Now, Blackstar was a lot of things—oblivious, arrogant, self-centered, wild, arrogant, egotistic, arrogant—but he was _not_ a total idiot. Even he could tell when Maka was planning something horribly, unbelievably painful. And so he immediately began to edge backwards, toward the window.

"Hey, now, Maka, don't do anything stupid," he made an attempt at bravado, but his voice shook slightly. There were few who didn't fear an angry Maka, especially in her home, where she had a large supply of hardcover books just begging to be jammed into somebody's poor skull.

"Uh, Blackstar?" said Soul, smirking. "You might wanna get moving. There's a bookcase right over—"

"MAKA-CHOP!"

…

"Hey, Kid?" said Liz quietly, sparing a glance to see if Stein would notice any side conversations. Nope, he was engrossed in dissecting some weird thing that looked like a scarlet raccoon. A red panda, that's what he'd called it.

"Yes?" he said distractedly. He was trying to get the 'k' in his name just right on his paper. It was a means of distraction from the pair right in front of him, playfully nudging one another and tugging on each other's hair.

"What's been eating at you?" she wondered, also aware of Soul and Maka and their outrageous flirting, but finding it rather cute. "You've been really quiet lately."

He waved off her concerns with his free hand. Kid was sweating now, trying to get just the right angle to draw the 'k'.

"It's nothing. Now hush, I'm trying to concentrate."

Liz frowned and sighed, leaning back in her chair. Kid never talked about what was bothering him. She didn't understand why, but she knew better than to push him. He would just use a lot of big words she didn't know in an explanation that wouldn't make any sense to her, and then she'd storm out in a huff and head for the library to look up the words he used, piecing together his lecture and _still_ not quite getting it.

She glanced surreptitiously at him from the corner of her eye. Liz had become quite familiar with the sight of him; she could tell you exactly what color his eyes were, how they changed when he was upset, what the tautness of his shoulders meant, and even what he was probably thinking when he bit his lip. Right then, his amber eyes were darting from the paper on his desk, to the picture of Soul and Maka pinching each other when Stein wasn't paying attention, and back again. His lips were pressed together in a thin line as he tried to focus on drawing that 'k'. But he wasn't focusing. His attention kept flicking to where Maka sat, bright red, swatting Soul's hand away as it slid suggestively up her thigh.

Why was he so interested in that scene? In a seemingly negative manner, too; his knuckles shouldn't be threatening to break through his skin, and he shouldn't be biting his lip so hard that it bled. Why did it bother him that those two had _finally_ worked it all out?

The answer was so obvious, Liz wanted to slap herself. Then she had to wonder how she'd never noticed it before. She was a master at reading people; how could she have missed such a crucial piece of Kid's life? Again, the answer was blatant. She didn't want to believe it. She wanted to believe that she had a chance with the young reaper.

And she didn't have the slightest chance, if he was gay.

He liked _Soul_. That must be why he was scowling at the happy couple. What other reason could there be? After all, Maka was lucky to have even _one_ guy after her. It wasn't like she had that perfect body, or the perfect personality. Liz loved her like a sister, which was why she had no qualms about admitting that that girl, while nice enough on occasion, and way tough on her missions, did _not_ have much going for her. She was a violent, boring, play-it-safe bookworm with little to show in the physical aspects department. That didn't mean that Liz didn't _like_ her; she did. Maka was one of her best friends. But a girl like that would never attract many guys.

_Soul_ on the other hand, well, everyone knew that he attracted both girls _and_ guys. He was reasonably good-looking, he was funny, he wasn't overzealous for school, he liked to kick back and relax. He was _cool_. Why shouldn't Kid like that?

_Because having a gay meister is just awkward_, thought Liz sourly. Then she shook it off. Oh, well, maybe she could get Kid to talk about it when they got home. She snorted quietly; she could just imagine starting _that_ conversation.

_Hey, so, Kid, I saw you staring at Soul and Maka, and I just realized that you're gay and all…_

Ugh, she'd have to work on that opener.

…

"_What_?" Maka exclaimed, leaping to her feet in utter disbelief. Liz though her meister was _what_?

"I told you, I think Kid is gay," said Liz wearily.

"I really don't think so, Liz," said Maka, fighting for calm. "Kid doesn't strike me as the type to swing that way."

"Well, I saw him watching you and Soul, and I just thought…maybe…" Liz trailed off, a little embarrassed now that she'd voiced her thoughts. Once she had spoken her suspicion out loud, it sounded as ridiculous as Maka described it.

"Wait, you think he has a crush on _Soul_? Liz, that's insane! Completely and totally crazy!" Maka laughed, falling back into her chair just as the front door opened.

"Crazy?" repeated the newcomer. Liz suppressed a grimace; Maka grinned like it was Christmas come early. "Not talking about me, are you?"

"Not exactly," said Maka brightly as Soul slouched in, laden with grocery bags.

"You can explain what you just said while you help me put this stuff away," he said, continuing into the kitchen.

Liz and Maka both rose to their feet, traipsing after Soul and unpacking the various shopping bags.

"So, how were you _not exactly_ talking about me?" Soul said, tossing a package of two-minute noodles carelessly into a cupboard. Maka rolled her eyes and straightened up his haphazard stacking of the foods.

"Well, Liz said some real weird stuff, about you and Kid, but we were talking more about him than you, so…"

"Why were you talking about me and Kid?" he asked, pausing with the refrigerator door open and a carton of milk halfway onto a shelf. Maka barely hid a smile at his thinly veiled suspicion. Liz was right with her; when a guy was jealous, it was pretty damn cute.

"Well…Uhm, I'll let Liz explain it to you," Maka laughed, taking the milk from him and setting it on a shelf in the fridge, shutting the door.

Soul straightened up and looked expectantly at the oldest Thompson sister, who suddenly looked fascinated with the nutrition facts on a bottle of Ramune. Her cheeks were dusted with pink from chagrin.

"Liz?" he prompted, when she continued to studiously ignore him.

She jumped a little, looked at him, looked at Maka, who just winked and laughed, and back to the bottle.

"Well, I was trying to figure out what was wrong with Kid; I told you he's been really quiet lately. I saw him watching you guys in class, and he looked a bit like you just did, when you heard that me and Maka had been talking about Kid. My first assumption was that he was jealous of you over Maka, but he's never acted like he felt anything like that for our little meister." Maka stuck her tongue out at Liz when she said this. "And then I figured that…maybe…maybe he was gay, and he was jealous of _Maka_ over _you_."

She flushed a brilliant red at Soul's resounding laugh, and Maka smacked the side of his head, chastising him for being such a jerk.

"Sorry," Soul said, unabashed, not sounding sorry at all.

"Shut up," grumbled Liz. "Why _else_ would he have been staring?"

"Well, maybe he _does_ like her, Liz," said Soul, not looking at all happy with the possibility.

"But—"

"Or," Maka cut across her, shooting Soul an exasperated look. "He's jealous because we're together, and he isn't with whatever girl he actually _does_ like."

"But why do you care, anyway, Liz?" asked Soul. Before she could come up with a reason, Soul smacked his hand against his forehead. "Of _course_. _You_ like _Kid_!"

"Shut up, Soul!" she huffed. "I do _not_!"

"You totally do, Liz!" he laughed.

Liz threw Maka a pleading look, and her friend gave a sympathetic smile. Her hand drifted behind her. An agonized shout later, Soul was twitching feebly on the ground, _Pride and Prejudice_ stuck in the back of his head.

"C'mon, Liz," said Maka, taking her friend's hand. "We'll figure something out."

Liz nodded meekly, and the two girls left the apartment, and the unconscious Soul Eater, in favor of a place to plan.


	9. Under the Influence

"Liz? What are we doing here?" asked Kid, looking in at the brightly lit carnival.

"You've been really down lately," said Liz easily, buying a couple tickets for the two of them. "I just thought you might want something to cheer you up."

Kid cocked his head to the side, blinking rapidly to try and adjust to the bright, obnoxious lighting of the fair. "It's quite noisy."

Liz laughed and shrugged, looping her arm through his and tugging him directly into the masses. "It's a carnival! It's supposed to be loud. And bright. And crazy. And _fun_."

"It certainly seems crazy," Kid acknowledged, side-stepping a young man who was being sick onto the trampled dirt and grass in front of a ride called the Ring of Fire. "Shouldn't we find something a bit more…er, _less_ than this? This just seems a bit off the wall. It's hectic."

"Oh, loosen up, Kid," Liz cajoled. "Have some _fun_! It's a Saturday night; we're _supposed_ to be doing something a bit hectic. It's healthy!"

Kid looked pointedly around at the tightly packed crowds, where people were detaching themselves left and right to sprint for a trash bin to vomit curly fries and cotton candy and hot dogs and Death only knew what else. The smell of cheap alcohol was heavy in the air, and a suspicious scent wafted through the air with wisps of smoke.

"Healthy?" he echoed in disdain. "This place is filthy."

"Come _on_ Kid!" Liz pleaded. "Just loosen up!"

…

Two hours later, Liz was beginning to regret her idea. At first, everywhere they turned Kid was freaking over the symmetry—or lack thereof—of the prize arrangements in the stalls, of the lighting patterns on the rides, of the various people themselves. At one point he jumped over a stall's counter and began rearranging the huge stuffed animals with a maniacal gleam in his eyes, nothing more than a black-white-and-gold blur. And that was _before _things got crazy.

As the two were walking around, headed for the Ferris Wheel, some shady guys stepped out, chuckling and talking far too loud to each other.

"Hey hot stuff," one drawled, reeking of weed and beer. "Wanna hang with a real man?"

Liz almost said _why, _yes_, I would like to hang with a real man, and I _am_, _punctuating this statement with a punch, but her eyes zeroed in on a smoking joint in the guy's hand. She glanced at Kid, who hadn't noticed anything and was stressing about someone's asymmetrical haircut. Not for her, but perhaps for her stressed out companion. She turned back to the man, who was grinning widely and displaying all his nasty yellow teeth, and turned on her man-eating smile.

"Can't hang around long, but you wanna share that?" She gestured at the joint. With a laugh that was an exhalation of rancid air the guy passed it over.

"Nothin' like it," he chuckled.

Liz only raised her eyebrows and called Kid over.

"Try this," she said, holding it up. Kid looked at it critically.

"This is marijuana," he said coolly, looking at the guys that were still watching them.

"Yeah, just take a couple hits!" Liz urged. "It's an awesome feeling, and it's only temporary. It's not like you'll get addicted or anything after one time."

_Most likely_, she added silently.

Kid was still watching the joint warily.

"Are you sure, Liz?"

"Absolutely," she answered. "It feels _awesome_."

Big damn mistake.

After a couple of hits, Kid was suddenly off his rocker, staggering to and fro, cackling at perfectly ordinary things. Liz finally managed to steer him into the line for the Ferris Wheel, and they were up in no time. Only problem was that Kid was getting really goofy, leaning dangerously far over the side of their compartment and shouting nonsense words into the still air. Liz pulled him back into the seat next to her, and he relaxed and snuggled into her side.

Liz stiffened, looking down at him. His amber eyes were fixed on her blue gaze, glazed over with the effects of the drug.

_Okay, maybe that was a bad idea…_ Liz admitted silently, even as Kid leaned upward, toward her face.

"Kid, what—"

Her words were cut off as he pressed his lips against hers in a soft, chaste kiss. She blinked, and relaxed, drawing out the kiss a bit longer than was strictly necessary. Finally she had to pull back, wrinkling her nose at the smell and taste of Mary Jane. Kid just sighed and snuggled into her side like an adorable puppy.

"I love you Lizzie," he giggled.

Liz stared at him, looking away only when they had to get off the ride.

That was when she decided it was time to go home. She drove, with him still giggling occasionally in the passenger's seat. When they returned to Gallows Manor, Liz walked Kid to his room and tucked him into the covers like he was a small child. He gave a silly grin, closed his eyes, and promptly began snoring.

She managed to get to the hall and close his door before she fell to her knees.

"What the _hell_ happened tonight?" she demanded of herself.

Of course, she had an answer, but she didn't like it. She'd gotten Kid high, and he'd gone completely out of his mind, acting completely out of character, and then he kissed her and said he loved her like it was a big joke, then she'd tucked him in like a little kid.

Speaking of little kids…where was—

"Hey big sis!" shouted Pati from down the hall. Never mind. "What're you doin' down there? It's time to go to bed!"

"I'm coming Pati!" Liz called, clambering to her feet. She cast Kid's closed door one last look, feeling some sick foreboding settle in her stomach, and then turned and went to her own bedroom. She was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.

…..

"Morning Kid," said Liz cautiously, hovering near the door. He glanced up from his breakfast.

"Good morning, Liz," he said tiredly. "Death, I have an awful headache."

She shuffled her feet guiltily.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

He frowned and set his fork down.

"Why? It's not like you had anything to do with it."

She stilled, and looked up at him, disbelief flaring in her eyes. Kid's frown deepened and he stood up.

"Liz, is something bothering you?" he asked, moving to her side. She shook her head vigorously.

"N-no, nothing's wrong. But, ah, Kid, do you not remember why you have a headache?"

He shook his head and shrugged. "No. I probably just didn't have enough sleep last night. I don't remember waking up at all, but it would make sense."

"Uhm…" Liz said uncertainly, that foreboding sensation from the previous night making a reappearance. "Do you remember anything from last night?"

Kid frowned and tilted his head. "Not really. Just blurs."

Liz stared at him. Her mouth was hanging open.

"Liz? Did I say something strange?" Kid asked, beginning to sound alarmed. "You aren't acting like yourself, are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just surprised. Are you saying—do you mean you don't remember _anything_ from last night?"

He shook his head again.

"No. Nothing."


	10. Honesty's the Best Policy

Liz was on edge all day, waiting for a chance to bolt and find Maka. Kid, if he noticed her unusual behavior, said nothing about it and instead called Blackstar and Soul and suggested a guy's night. Maybe this in itself was Kid's way of giving Liz what she wanted, which must have been transparently obvious. Kid left shortly after that phone call, promising to be back before midnight.

"Yeah, right," grumbled Liz. "If Blackstar's gonna be there, he'll be lucky to get home before the sun rises." Then she turned to her sister. "I'm leaving for a little while, Pati. You've got run of the house."

She felt only a slight twinge of unease at the way her sister grinned and laughed manically, and she left, all but sprinting to Maka and Soul's apartment. However, she was at the front door, ready to wrap on the solid wood, when a loud purr sounded behind her. Turning, Liz fixed her blue-eyed gaze on the violet cat in the witch's hat, perched on the railing.

"They're not home, _nya_," said the cat. "They left about an hour ago and told Blair not to burn down the house."

"Do you know where they went?" Liz demanded.

Blair raised a dainty paw and gave it a swipe of her little pink tongue, amber eyes fixed on Liz.

"Blair thinks they went grocery shopping, _nya_," the cat answered. She rose to all four paws and leapt onto the landing, twining around the weapon's ankles.

"Do you know when they'll be back? I really need to talk to Maka."

Blair shook her head and stretched. "Anytime now. They said they would be home soon. An hour does count as soon, doesn't it?"

Liz ran her hand through her hair and sighed. An hour, huh? So how much longer would she have to wait? As if on cue, her phone rang. She picked up on the first ring. The most welcome voice in the world spoke first. Well, second most voice, actually.

"Hey, Liz, Kid called and invited me to a guys' day," said Soul. "I'm dropping Maka off at the flat and heading out. You wanna come over and keep her company?"

"I'm already here," she grumbled. "I need to talk to Maka. Are you on your way?"

"Yeah, we'll be there soon" he answered, then hung up without so much as a _goodbye_.

"Hmph, boys," Liz sighed, sliding her phone back into her tight jeans' pocket and shaking her dirty blonde head.

True to his word, Soul and Maka showed up within ten minutes, in which Liz entertained herself by asking Blair the cat all about what it was like to be able to change into a furry feline at will. The growl of the motor cycle preceded them, and Liz's first thought was _grocery shopping on the bike? Really?_ Really, who would do _that_? You'd think that Maka would've talked Soul out of something so stupid. But, when Liz looked down over the rail, the pair weren't burdened by bags; they were grinning hugely, Maka's skinny arms wrapped tightly around Soul's waist, chin resting on his shoulder.

"Hi Liz!" called Maka when Soul cut the engine off. Liz waved, and Blair stood and stretched, swiping a paw over one ear.

"No one ever says hi to Blair…" she mewled.

"Hey, cat," said Soul noncommittally, slouching up the stairs to the landing.

"Hi, Blair," Maka said, with a little more gusto.

"Blair said you were grocery shopping," said Liz, "but I don't see any bags. So, where were our darling Maka and Soul?"

Soul rolled his eyes and unlocked the door, pushing it open for Maka and Liz. "I gotta head out. See you guys later."

He planted a quick, sound kiss on Maka's lips, then he was back down the stairs. Maka shook her head, grinning wryly.

"Always so private," she muttered. To Liz, she added "You want something to drink?"

Liz shook her head, unease settling in her stomach.

"No, I really need to talk to you though."

Maka frowned, cocking her head to the side like a puppy at Liz's tone. Her emerald eyes flashed as she studied Liz's soul, and she nodded with understanding.

"Something's wrong with Kid." A statement, not a question. She gestured to the loveseat in the living room, and Liz collapsed onto it, with Maka perching on the arm.

"Remember how I told you I was going to take him out to the fair? For a change of pace?" she began. Maka nodded, and Liz swallowed. "Well, I did, and he started getting all OCD on me, and…"

And she proceeded to explain everything to Maka; how he had began freaking out about the sporadic lights and colors and erratic placement of prizes, how they had been walking around when those guys showed up with the drugs, how Liz had coaxed Kid into trying some, and how he'd gone even more crazy. Most importantly, Liz informed Maka that Kid had no memory whatsoever of last night. By the time Liz was done, Maka was staring at her, open-mouthed.

"You gave…You gave drugs to _Kid_? Of all people in the world, you gave _weed_ to _Kid_? What the hell were you thinking, Liz?"

Liz shrugged helplessly. "I guess I was thinking that he would loosen up a little. And I was right, he did, but too much. And I couldn't…I couldn't bring myself to tell him this morning. I should have, I know that, but I just _couldn't_."

Maka closed her eyes, sighing softly. When they opened, they were bright and fierce.

"Liz, you have to tell him. It may wound your pride, but that's better than having him forget something as important as that. It'd be wrong to hide that from him, and you know that'll eat at you for a long time if you try."

Liz sighed. "Yeah, I know. I was hoping you could help me with that, though. I don't know how to start that."

She made a face at just how she thought _that_ would go down. _Hey, Kid, so remember when you said you couldn't remember what happened the other night? Yeah, well, that's because you smoked some pot that I coaxed you into trying…_ Yeah, Liz really wasn't good at these types of things.

Maka blinked and leaned back against the couch. "Tell him you're sorry. You can't say you didn't think it would hurt, because you more than anybody should know better. You can't say you didn't _mean_ to, especially after he protested at first. All you can say is that you're sorry about what you did and it'll never happen again. If that's true, of course."

"Of course it's true!" Liz exclaimed. "I'll never go down _that_ road again!"

Maka smiled. "Well, let's work on your presentation so that you've got it ready when guys' night is over."

…

_This _was why Liz went to Maka for advice. That girl might have some big faults—hell, who _didn't_?—but the guidance she gave was sound and accurate. When guys' night had ended, Kid had come to pick Liz up. They'd driven home in uncomfortable silence—uncomfortable for Liz; she didn't know about Kid. When they'd reached Gallows Manor, and Kid walked her inside as always, she asked him to come up to her room. He did, not sure what was going on. They both sat on her bed, and Liz told him what happened last night, everything, not even excluding the tiny, high kiss, or how she wished that it had been legitimate; now that had been awkward and embarrassing for her. She apologized profusely. She expected shouting, or at least angry words. Maybe he would just storm out of her room without saying a word.

What she did _not_ expect was a hard, fierce kiss.

Kid pulled back, taking her face in his hands and making her look him in the eyes. For a moment, they just stared at each other, blue to gold, and then he admitted that he already knew this. He hadn't lost his memory of that night, although some of it was a blur. He'd been hoping that Liz would be able to tell him herself, though. And when she had, he had to kiss her. Simply had to.

And now Liz was curled against Kid's strong, hard chest on her mattress, with his arms around her, and his nose buried in her neck. His warm, even breaths fanned her throat as he slept. When had he gotten taller than her, that he could completely encircle her body?

That night, Liz fell asleep with a smile on her face.


End file.
